


Open Yourself Up to Love

by writeyourownlifestory



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Love Triangles, M/M, Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourownlifestory/pseuds/writeyourownlifestory
Summary: Each member of the band had a soul mark, all except for the drummer. And that was fine. Until it wasn't.





	Open Yourself Up to Love

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this to keep my title as angst-master, but don't worry I went light on your guys. 
> 
> Highly suggest you listen to Soulmate by Natasha Bedingfield cause it was basically played on repeat while I wrote this.

 

Soul marks were tricky, tricky things. Sometimes they would arrive as soon as a person was born. Others had to wait a bit for them to arrive — maybe even wait for their whole lives. For others, they didn’t get them at all. 

 

You never really knew what to expect. Sometimes you’d get lucky and other times you’d be left out in the dust while everyone else in the world went off with the love of their life. Roger tried not to be bitter over it, always knowing that one day his mark would arrive. He would be a late bloomer, is all. He never allowed it to get to him. 

 

He had other things on his mind, like his schooling and his music. Roger always dreamed of being a rockstar and knew he had the talent to do it. When he auditioned for a no-name band, he wasn’t sure what to expect. They were just three fellas with a ridiculous name in uni just trying to make it by. None of them had soul marks and that was wonderful. 

 

They could flirt with the girls that had yet to gain their mark and play pretend like it never really mattered. Roger was a pretty fellow who never had issues getting a girl into his bed. He had nice eyes and good manners. He was fun to have around and could easily be introduced to a set of parents. 

 

Of course, he didn’t date for long term. He had bigger plans. After all, he was young and sweet and had his whole life ahead of him. Until the day a name appeared on his wrist, there was no point in settling down.

 

When the band continued to play and their lead singer bowed out in hopes of better things, they ended up keeping a friend of his. Freddie was a wild man who was utterly careless and absolutely wonderful. Roger clicked with him perfectly when it came to music, even if the rotter decided to change the band name to something even more ridiculous than what it had been before. 

 

With Freddie came his soul mark and apparent soulmate Mary. She was nice enough and while she and Brian had flirted a time or two the larger man bowed out when he realized who she belonged to. 

 

The band carried on with the three of them and an array of ever-changing bass players. None of them really seemed to work and Brian was beginning to lose hope that they’d ever find someone that would fit so well with them. 

 

Roger, on the other hand, didn’t bat an eye at the idea of it not working out. He was the youngest of the three and was incredibly easy going. He was a hopeful bastard and fully believed things would work out on their own if given the chance. 

 

And they did, they really did. 

 

Because then they found John. John fucking Deacon, with his long hair and infectious smile. Freddie adored him the moment he walked in, looking completely bored and almost bothered. Brian and Roger found him at a show of there’s and the man seemed completely uninterested in their set, which baffled the men to pieces. 

 

John was bold despite his timid appearance and that worked well for the group. They needed someone like him, with such an attitude in such a quiet little package. For the first time in a long time, they seemed to truly fit and that was fantastic. 

 

John came with his own soul mark and soul mate. A pretty little girl called Veronica who was pleasant and lovely. She fit in well with Mary and for a while, it was just Brian and Roger as the two without marks. 

 

Neither of them seemed to care very much. After all, being mark free meant being able to do whatever they wanted without being tied down. The ultimate freedom. 

 

That was until Brian met a pretty lady named Chrissie who happened to carry his name on her wrist. It continued the group to no end but the curly haired man merely shrugged it off and decided to make the lady his own. After all, it wasn’t rare for a mark to come later than usual. Brian courted Chrissie for a while and then it was just Roger.

 

Being in a band and being single was everything he hoped it would be, except if you’re the only single person in the band. How the hell was he supposed to enjoy going out and picking up girls if he didn’t have his friends to do it with him? Sure, the men went out as a group; who didn’t love the idea of seeing four gorgeous rockstars in the making sitting at the bar? 

 

Still, each man had a woman to go home to and Roger was left to his own devices. Brian would still chat up a few girls, especially since he didn’t have a mark, to begin with even if he had Chrissie. John had never been one for flirting, as he was too painfully shy and would instead keep himself on the dance floor whenever they’d go out. And Freddie was . . . well, Freddie. Freddie loved people. In reality, it seemed that the world was Freddie’s soulmate. He just loved love and he loved people and he loved life. 

 

And he just wanted what was best for everyone. He wanted each and every member of his family to be as happy as he was, even if the man continued to reach for the sky. 

 

Roger’s soul mark didn’t come by the time they recorded their first album and neither did Brian’s. When their second and third were recorded, all four men wondered what they were doing with their lives. Sure, they toured around and went to Japan, but it just wasn’t enough. Perhaps they were being greedy or maybe they were still climbing that long ladder that would bring them to where they needed to be? 

 

It was the fourth album that finally made sense of it all. The album was quite extraordinary and nothing like they had ever done before, but that was the fun of it. The world seemed to finally take them seriously 

 

A year after that, Brian and Chrissie had married and John and Veronica were parents. Freddie was going through a bit of a crisis with Mary and Roger, well he was on his own. And he didn’t mind, not really. 

 

It seemed along the way, with touring and meeting new people, Freddie was beginning to realize that he cared for more than just Mary. This wasn’t as much of a surprise to anyone as it had already been established that Freddie had far too much love in his heart for just one person. Yet his soul mark remained. 

 

Even after the man ended their engagement, he kept the woman in his life because that was what he needed. He and Mary loved one another, even if the singer preferred to be with the same sex every now and then. 

 

No one thought much of it and continued on to write and play their music. John and Veronica pumped out more children and Brian and Chrissie had one of their own. Brian continued to flirt with other girls because he had no mark to show off. 

 

John and Brian had fought over it a time or two, the former finding it utterly bullshit that Brian would be so careless with his wife. Brian merely rolled his eyes and called John completely whipped. 

 

Roger didn’t want to take sides, though Brian did his best to drag him on. Neither man had a soul mark to show off, so they both understood what it was like to be wanted by so many people. Sure, there were the scum out there who went after those who bare a mark, but they could easily be ignored. 

 

Brian argued that men like John were too small minded and that settling for one thing just wasn’t human. Even Freddie, who had a mark on his wrist, bore the name of a woman he loved, still went out and met up with people, still took other people home and had a night of fun with them.

 

Roger had fun too. He would fuck women without even knowing their names. He would see another handsome man and give the fan a chance to get on his knees and praise his name as he sucked his cock. Roger didn’t really care for labels. Didn’t like being put inside a box as one thing or another. He took pleasure in pleasure and whether it was from a guy or a gal didn’t seem that important to him. 

 

Sure, the world wanted to know what they were, especially as their careers grew and grew, but he never allowed it to bother him by much. 

 

Roger was happy to sit on the sidelines and allow his friends to deal with the relationship drama and the bullshit. All the while he would just live his life, completely bare to a soul mark. He didn’t allow it to bother him in the least, especially not when he started to realize that his feelings for his bass player were a bit more than mere friendship. 

 

He knew it was slightly ridiculous. He had known John since they were in their early twenties. They were practically lads at that point, so fresh and new to the music world and there they were, entering the bloody eighties together as men. As rockstars. 

 

And there was Roger, watching John from afar and admiring him in every way possible. He always adored the way John held himself in public. Like he had nothing at all to lose. Perhaps he wasn’t as wild and proud as Freddie, but he kept his head up and spoke so carefully. He was incredibly quiet and very shy more often than not but that didn’t change the fact that he had a quick tongue and pointed attitude. 

 

Didn’t change the fact that he had a soul mark and Roger didn’t. Didn’t change the fact that John was straight and Roger was . . . Roger. The blond couldn’t help the way his heart would skip a beat every time he looked at the man, but the best he could do was at least keep everything professional and platonic for the sake of the band and their friendship.

 

The pretty blond drummer tried not to let it get the best of him. He would push himself into other things, other people, other women. He dated a lovely French lady for a while. She didn’t have a mark and didn’t care that his heart belonged to another. 

 

Their union resulted in a child, which was good. Very good. Roger adored being a father and the women in question didn’t push for anything more. They had a good friendship, him and Dominique and shared their son without question. When that ended, there were no hard feelings. Truth was, there wasn’t much there, to begin with, though both agreed they got the best out of one another in their boy. 

 

Roger carried on like always, pining after the handsome bass player and waiting for the day when something would finally snap him out of it.

 

Their careers went on and on, bringing them into the mainstream again and again. There were so many songs they could play and lyrics they could write. By this point, everybody knew their name and that was all that mattered. They were living the rock star dreams. Touring different cities and countries. Being in huge hotels and selling out arenas. They didn’t have to want for a thing, but then again, that didn’t really make life any easier. 

 

John had been having problems during their tours. He missed his kids and he missed his wife. Veronica was a calming piece for John. Roger found that he couldn’t even be jealous of the man's soulmate as they just worked so damn well for one another. Envious, perhaps. That she could be there for John when Roger couldn’t. 

 

Roger tried, Christ did he try though it didn’t always work out. Brian was off fucking the first gorgeous girl that was willing to overlook his wedding ring that he was just too lazy to remove and Freddie was off trying to find a man to keep in his bed. 

 

People had been flirting with John, ignoring his obvious mark and hoping to score a rockstar. He had run off at some point, ending up having a bit of an attack out on the balcony of the party room. Roger attempted to relax him and get his mind off it, and to his surprise, it worked. Roger found that he longed to bring some sort of peace to John and refused to leave his side for the rest of the night. 

 

“Sometimes I envy you, you know,” John confessed as they shared a cigarette and looked over the city lights. “Being without a mark. It seems so easy.” 

 

It was easy. The only person Roger had to care about was himself. No cheating scandals or having to leave his lover across the sea. No missing anybody or heartache from the distance. Being without a soul mark was the easiest way to live. But it was also the loneliest. 

 

Seeing his bare skin was by far the saddest reminder that he was utterly and completely alone. Sitting here with John, who bore the mark of his lady love with Roger sat completely bare as he secretly pined over the man was the hardest of all.

 

But that was a tale he would never tell. 

 

“Ronnie loves you, John. And you love her.” He answered, keeping his eyes on the lights across the way. 

 

John just bobbed his head, whispering a quiet word of the agreement as his deft fingers ran over the name written across his right wrist. 

 

Nothing got easier after that. In fact, it only got worse, starting with Freddie. 

 

The man woke up one morning the same as always. He fed the cats and washed his hair. He called their manager to see if the meeting was still on only to rip the phone from the wall when he realized his left wrist was no longer bare. 

 

It seemed to hold the name of another. A handsome man named Jim that he had been attempting to court for the longest time. The man finally accepted and now it seemed that fate was playing a sick joke on the singer as he had two names on him now. One is Mary’s and one is Jim’s. 

 

The band tried their best to help with the confusion, suggesting that perhaps Freddie was meant to be with both Jim and Mary but Freddie rebuffed this. Apparently, he tried to introduce them and the two fought like cats and dogs. Mary was with someone else by this point, a man who didn’t have a name on his wrist but wasn’t looking for one, all while Mary still bore Freddie’s name on her own wrist. 

 

Freddie tried not to let it get to him, especially since Jim insisted he didn’t care about the other name. His own wrist had Freddie’s name on it and that was enough to prove they were meant to be together. 

 

Roger didn’t want to be jealous, especially since the predicament didn’t seem that ideal, but how the bloody fuck could he have two names while Roger still didn’t even have one? 

 

It was late into the eighties and Roger was a full on adult now. He and Dominique had gotten back together for a little while, resulting in their second child. This time around it was a girl and once again they were as happy as possible, but they knew after that it wouldn’t last. 

 

Roger was still hopelessly in love with a man who didn’t feel the same and Dominque wanted to live her own life. Roger was fully content with settling into his fate of being a single rockstar father without a name on his wrist, especially since he knew he wouldn’t be the only one dealing with such things.

 

That was until Brian of all people woke up to find a name on his wrist. 

 

Oh, what a lovely sight that must have been for dear old Chrissie. The woman bears his children and takes care of his house and cooks him breakfast. Her loving husband, Dr. Brian May settles down at the table for coffee and toast and what is sitting on his wrist?

 

The name was Anita. 

 

The side of Roger that was cruel and bitter wished he could have been there to see how that went down. Brian had been having an affair with the woman for some time now and it seemed things were getting serious, with the name on his wrist as proof. Anita had Brian’s name on her own wrist, signifying that they truly were meant to be together. 

 

Wasn’t that a load of shit?

 

Sure, it was romantic and shit, finally finding one another after so long, but come on! Brian had a wife, had children, and now suddenly he has a soul mark and soulmate out of nowhere? 

 

Roger was bitter. Bitter, angry, and pissed off. 

 

And none of those factors worked well on him. Green was not his color and it was obvious. He went out a time or twenty, getting drunk and dropping names so he could get into places. He spent many nights bringing someone home or stumbling into their home. Each day he’d wake up, hoping to wake and find a name written on his wrist.

 

At this point, any name would do.

 

But it never happened. He’d be completely alone, even if he had a sleeping body beside him. 

 

John had tried to speak with him, trying to coax out his troubles, but Roger refused. What was he to say? That he has fancied him since they were twenty-five and that none of it really matters because John is happily married with kids? Roger wasn’t going to start an affair. He wasn’t going to cause a rift between John and Veronica, who — to date — had the strongest relationship out of everyone he knew. 

 

Roger wasn’t a selfish bastard. Not when it came to the heart. 

 

So he pushed him away. Roger pushed away from the man he loved and his best friend in hopes of being able to have a bit of freedom. Some time away from the never-ending realization that Roger would never fully be happy. His heart was broken even more as he screened John’s calls and hurried in and out of practice so he didn’t have to face the man. 

 

John wasn’t stupid and caught up to him quickly. He knew something was going on with him and he refused to accept the silence any longer. Roger played it off like it was nothing. He tried to keep cool and just say that the everyday life of being rockstar was finally getting to him and perhaps he was having a bit of an early midlife crisis. He didn’t know what to say so he rambled on and on and John . . . bless that beautiful bastard because he just stood there and listened. 

 

“When you’re ready to finally tell me what is going on, you know where to find me.” 

 

It was as simple as that. John gave him space he obviously needed, all the while insisting that he was there for Roger even if he didn’t want him to be. In the end, it only made Roger want him more, which was the exact opposite of what he wanted out of this situation. 

 

In the end, their careers had to carry on and they had an album to put out, which meant spending time around one another. And then it was time to tour again, Roger chose not to follow John around like a lost puppy. Nor did he try to shack up with the first person who caught his eye. Instead, he did his own thing, accepting the pathetic sadness that was his life. 

 

Freddie was off with Jim, who he dragged around the world since they were attached to the hip, and Brian was away having phone sex with Anita and wishing his kids goodnight. And Roger was off at the bar trying to nurse his endless broken heart while John was across the way being chatted up by David Bowie of all people. 

 

They knew one another very well as they had previously worked on _Hot Space_ together — an album that to this day made Roger want to break glass over his head — so it wasn’t surprising that the two were so chummy. 

 

But there was another there, a bit of a fan that followed David into the bar and now set his sights on the bass player. The way John was leaning into him and smiling and accepting David’s own sweet words. The latter man was flirting and he had every right to be. He was gorgeous and fit and could get anyone he wanted; even John who was straight and married with children. 

 

And that made Roger’s blood boil. 

 

When David Bowie moved out of sight, Roger made his way in, grabbing John by the arm and pulling him out of the bar until they could go outside and stand in the light. John, who was utterly baffled by Roger’s continuing annoyance, just didn’t understand the bitterness the blond held towards him. 

 

“Are you kidding me, John? I expected this from Freddie. From Brian who can’t keep his zipper up, but you?” 

 

John looked at him like he was a complete mad man, his gray eyes widening. “What are you talking about?” 

 

“I’m talking about you being chatted up by a fucking groupie! All the while your wife is on the other side of the world taking care of your children!”

 

“When did you get so high and mighty?” 

 

“Last time I checked you were very adamant about soul marks meaning something.” 

 

They had fought before. All friends had. If you didn’t fight with your friends were you ever truly friends? But nothing like this. Roger never let it slip how depressed he was to be on his own so to see the one person who had the mark from the very beginning doing something so low . . . it hurt him. He wasn’t jealous, not really, sadder. So bloody sad. 

 

“You have no idea how lucky you are to have that.” Roger reached out and took John’s right hand. He held it up, squeezing it tightly so his fingers crossed over Veronica’s name, “To have her. To have _anyone_ , John!” 

 

“It wasn’t like that!” John insisted though he didn’t pull his arm away. 

 

Roger stood there, rolling his eyes as he held his best friends wrist tightly in his hand. Like this, he couldn’t even see her name. Like this, Roger could almost play pretend, like John’s wrist didn’t have a name at all or maybe, just maybe, had someone else name entirely written against his skin. 

 

Maybe, maybe.

 

“You’re better than this. Don’t be like them, John. Don’t throw it all away just because you’re lonely.” 

 

Roger let go of his wrist then, walking away in a huff. He returned to his hotel room alone and stayed there for the rest of the night. The next day they were free to do as they placed, but Roger didn’t want to go out. He didn’t want to go explore the city that he loved oh so very much. 

 

He stayed in his room, miserable as ever until a knock took him out of his slump. He thought about to ignore it, but then another came, and then again. He knew those knocks far too well. Timid, yet persistent. Roger bite down the yell he had lodged in his throat and pushed off the bed to answer the door. 

 

“Care to join me for a walk?” John asked carefully. 

 

He looked so uncertain. So uneasy. John only looked this way before interviews, when the cameras were on him with dozens of eyes squaring him down. Roger grabbed his jacket and followed him out. 

 

They walked along the waters edge together, neither saying much until they got to the dock. John leaned against it casually while Roger pulled himself to sit up on the top bar, leaning back so he wouldn’t slip. 

 

“We’re mates, aren’t we Roge?” John asked him quietly. 

 

Roger kept looking forward, glad that his eyes were hidden by the tinted sunglasses he wore. 

 

“Veronica has always been my girl, you know? Ever since we met, we just clicked. When I woke up and found her name on my arm, I was happy. No more searching. No more wondering. Everything is so easy with her.” 

 

“And yet you were flirting with a man last night,” Roger replied dryly. In the corner of his eye, he saw John swallow hard, his hands rubbing tightly on the metal bar. 

 

“Ronnie and I . . . we have a good thing going. Marriage and children. It’s the life I always wanted to live. You know me . . . I never cared about being a rock star. I just wanted to play and have fun.” 

 

“I get it, Deaks. I sing the song you wrote every bloody night. You’re _happy at home_.” 

 

“I am! I love being around Veronica and our children but . . . the thing is Veronica and me. . . we sort of came to the conclusion that our being together is a bit more . . . quixotic than we first thought.” 

 

Roger scoffed, rolling his eyes at the man. “Oh come on, John. We’re not playing Scrabble with the boys. Speak bloody English.” 

 

“It’s like with Fred and Mary! They need each other, but not the way Brian and Anita do. I love Veronica and I never want to live without her, but it seems that our soul marks are more of the platonic sense.” 

 

“How is that possible? You have children together.” 

 

“You have children with Dom. Do you not love her at least a little bit?” 

 

Roger knew it was a trick question. Of course, he loved her. She was the mother of his children and a damn good friend who put up with far more than she deserves. But Roger didn’t have her name on his wrist. 

 

Those marks were set up for a reason. You can’t just turn your back on them the moment your mind began to wander. 

 

But that was the whole thing about soul marks. Your mind _shouldn’t_ be wondering. Not the way Brian’s did or eventually Freddie’s did. When you have a soulmate, you’re only supposed to think about them, feel something for them. _Love_ them. Roger loved Dominique, but not the way she deserved to be. 

 

There was only one person Roger had loved over the years, but that didn’t matter because he didn’t have that man’s man on his wrist, nor did the man have his. 

 

“I spoke to Freddie and Brian about their marks. They said they knew Jim and Anita were the ones long before the marks even arrived. Brian actually said something clever.” 

 

“You’re complimenting him now? Christ, Deacy.”

 

“Would you just listen? Do you remember when he wrote _I Want It All_? Apparently, that song came from a fight he had with Anita. She was annoyed with the ongoing affair and wanted him to leave Chrissie, but he refused because naturally, he is a selfish bastard. After a long while of thinking, he came to the realization that Anita was the one he wanted to be with and the next morning, her name appeared on his wrist.” 

 

Roger rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. “How romantic.” 

 

“You have to open yourself up to love, Roger.” John insisted. “To love, you believe you deserve. Only then will you truly be happy.”

 

“I’m not here to be lectured, John.” Roger turned, swinging his leg over so he could hop down onto the walkway. 

 

John reached out, gripping onto Roger’s bicep to get his attention. “I don’t know what it is like to not have a mark, Roger. But I do know what it’s like to have one and still long for someone else. And that’s just as painful.” 

 

Roger reached upwards, prying John’s long fingers off his arm. He held his hand for a moment, their eyes meeting behind his glasses. “No pain is even remotely comparable to what I feel every single day, John.”

 

“You’re right. Completely. But I don’t want you to walk away from me, Roger. Walk away from our friendship. I need you just as much as I need her.” 

 

“But you’ll always need her more. The proof is there on your wrist.” Roger bobbed his head to John’s right hand, finally releasing him so he could walk off the boardwalk and back to the hotel. 

 

They left the city the following day and continued on with the tour like always. It must have been obvious as all the roadies were steering clear of the two. Roger had no intention of starting a fight, but you could never really tell. The rockstar lifestyle could sometimes be a bit wild and crazy and sometimes one might throw a bit of a tantrum or have a full-blown fist tight. 

 

Touching John was the last thing Roger wanted at this point. He found this to be the hardest tour of all. He missed his children and his own bed. He missed his home country and his own drum kit. And most of all he missed John, which was absolute bullshit as the farthest they would ever be was just a few doors down. 

 

Roger had become quite pathetic as he realized just how deep he was in love with John. And now knowing he was basically a free man just added more pressure onto him. What was he to do? Suggest they give it ago? It was practically nineteen-ninety. He’d known the man for nearly twenty years! Why the fuck would John want an old bastard like himself when he could have any groupie half his age? 

 

Towards the end of their tour, they ended up having to cancel one of their shows due to Freddie being under the weather. The singer was beyond angry and was ready to throttle everyone around him, though Jim paid him no mind. He shoved the man into bed with the phone so he could bitch to Mary and speak to their cats. 

 

Jim and Mary butted heads more than anyone, but Freddie was right when he said his husband was unfazed by the soul mark. “He needs her just as he needs me. All I want is his happiness.” Jim mentioned when they finally left the room. 

 

Freddie being ill wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t something that could be ignored either. It was quite obvious this would be their final tour unless anything changed, but it seemed like that was for the better. 

 

All touring did was cause a bit of problem anyway. They were better off just putting out music and letting the radio play them on repeat anyway. Made the same amount of money with less of the hassle. 

 

Roger was about to turn in for the night when he heard that familiar knocking again. He wanted to ignore it, but his heart forced him to go forward and answer it. John was there, looking just as tired as Roger was sure he did. 

 

“Can I come in?” John asked him softly. 

 

Roger didn’t say a word. He stepped aside, allowing John to slip through the door before closing it. 

 

John circled the room as if he was looking for something. Maybe a painting of sorts or a conversation starter, but it didn’t matter. He came here to talk about one thing. 

 

“Freddie is getting worse, isn’t he?” 

 

Roger shook his head, going to lean against the island counter. “It’s just a cold, John.” 

 

“We both know it’s more than that,” John told him with a quick shake of the head. 

 

They had known about Freddie’s condition for a while now and while he took good care of himself, anything was possible and the boys (men they were men now) all knew that. Still, Freddie was a boxer as a child and Roger knew he wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

 

“He’ll be fine, John,” Roger mentioned, trying his very best to believe it himself. 

 

John stood in the room, fidgeting slightly. They were no longer young men. Both older, both grayer, though John was still just as beautiful as he was on the night they had met when he was sitting in that dimly lit bar and he seemed so very unimpressed with the show. 

 

“I’ve missed you,” John confessed to him suddenly. “I know you sort of hate me right now and I don’t really know what it was I did to cause that, but I want you to know how much I miss being around you, Roger.” 

 

“John, I don’t hate you,” Roger said suddenly. 

 

The blond wasn’t sure if he was even capable of hating the man. The very thought made Roger want to throw something. How could he ever hate someone so wonderful, so talented, so amazing? It just didn’t process in his mind!

 

“Certainly seems like you do,” John confessed quietly. “You don’t talk to me anymore. You don’t sit with me during meals. I feel like I’ve done something terribly wrong.” 

 

“You haven’t done a thing, John.” 

 

“Then why are you acting like this?” 

 

Roger didn’t know what to say? Honestly, what could he say to make this better? He wanted to lie and say that he was just fucked in the head. That he was a jealous bastard who was undeniably in love with someone he couldn’t have. That even though Freddie was fucking dying Roger would take his place in a heartbeat because at least he got to have something Roger never would. 

 

“I’m sorry, John.” Was all that came out. 

 

John stood there, looking up to the ceiling as if he was searching for some define answer from the sky. “When Freddie found out he had more than one soulmate, I thought I would too.” He confessed suddenly. “We’ve been mates for so long, Roger. Ever since the beginning of this whole silly adventure with Queen, you have always been the one by my side. I thought . . . doesn’t matter what I thought.” 

 

“What, John?” 

 

The brunet tilted his head down, those gray eyes that Roger adored so desperately watched him behind hooded lids. “I thought it might have been you.” 

 

“Me?” Roger mimicked. “Why the hell would it be me?” 

 

“Because we’re _us_ , Roger. The rhythm section — the _sonic volcano_ you talk about! You have always been my best friend. The one by my side, the one caring about me. Freddie might have been there, but he always belonged to someone else. Not you. You always gave me your full devotion.” 

 

“I don’t have anyone else, John.” Only his children, who lived with their mother more often than not. Roger was sickeningly alone.

 

“You had me. We had each other.” 

 

“And you have Veronica.” 

 

“I can’t change how I feel about her. I will always love her. She’s the mother of my children and my best friend but Roger. Roge! There has always been more between us. I just wish you could have seen it.” 

 

The drummer didn’t know how to respond. Had he spent the past twenty years ignoring the way the bass player felt for him? Surely that wasn’t possible. Or was it? Could Roger truly blocked it out of his mind because he was so afraid of getting his heart broken? No one would blame him. John had someone else name written on his wrist, it wasn’t as if they could have been together. 

 

Until now, it seemed. 

 

“John, I . . . I don’t even know what to say.” Roger muttered, lifting his hands helplessly. 

 

They had danced around one another for so damn long. Fitting into the constructs that the world had created for them when all this time they could have just been together. Moving forward, Roger broke the distance between them, standing oh so very close to the brunet. They weren’t kids anymore, so being all sweet and romantic, bending John back and dipping into a sweeping kiss was out of the question.

 

But they had enough energy to be passionate and to show just how the other one cared. When he kissed John, he had twenty years worth of pent up need and want and a whole bunch of other emotions crammed into it. When they pulled away they were panting, looking at one another as the absolute fools they felt like. 

 

“We wasted so much time,” He muttered quietly. 

 

“No point in wasting any more,” John whispered, his long fingers gripping Roger’s bleached blond hair as he pulled him in for another long kiss. 

 

They didn’t have sex that night but that didn’t matter. They’d cross that bridge when they got to it. For now, all that mattered was that they were together. Kissing and touching and just holding one another felt far better than any shag Roger had ever experienced. 

 

It felt like he had been waiting for this moment his entire life and now that he had it, he didn’t want to let it slip through his fingers. He fell asleep in the arms of the love of his life, a man that he had known for half his life and loved him for practically all of it. 

 

When they woke the next morning, they were lazy, sharing gentle kisses as they rolled against the crisp hotel sheets. Roger felt like a young man again, so happy and carefree. They had the entire day to do whatever they wanted and Roger wanted to do everything. 

 

He felt like he was starting over, finally living the life he wanted to live and not just skirting his way through one that was made for him. He opened himself up to the love he believed he deserved and refused to look back.

 

Roger left the room only once and that was to grab their room service. He thought about letting the man bring it in for them but didn’t want anyone else seeing John in such a state of undress. So he shuffled to the door, not bothering to put on a shirt as he went to tip the man. He accepted the car, holding the cash out for him to take. 

 

Except he couldn’t because Roger wouldn’t let it go. He held his left hand out, with the poor bellhop holding the other side of the bill, waiting for the crazy brit to finally let go. 

 

When he did, he brought his wrist up to his face, squinting to make sure that his (already failing) eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. The skin that had once been pale and bare now had a name on it. One name that had haunted the drummer for so very, very long. 

 

“ _JOHN_!” He shouted loudly through the room, their meal cart forgotten.

 

Roger turned, storming back to the bedroom. John was standing in the middle of the room, his eyes cast down on his own left wrist, which had originally been bare and blank, but now was covered in the dark letting of a name. 

 

_His_ name. 

 

“It’s you,” Roger muttered quietly, approaching him quickly. “It’s always been you. About fucking time.” 

 

Roger kissed John then, nearly tackling him onto the bed in the process. John was left smiling that gapped toothed smile that Roger adored and laughing in a way that sounded so bloody sweet.

 

“I was yours even without the mark, you know,” John mentioned once they settled down, but Roger only shrugged. 

 

“Yeah, but now the world can know,” Roger stated, raising a brow to him casually. “Among other ways.” He added before dipping down to suck a mark against John’s neck. 

 

Roger didn’t know why or how it happened, but it didn’t matter. For the first time in his life, Roger didn’t feel so fucking alone. He had a mark and a mate and a man and that were all that mattered. 

 

And he was happy. 

 

So bloody happy. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, in this universe, if you have a name on your RIGHT wrist, it's a platonic soulmate, like Veronica/John and Mary/Freddie while the LEFT wrist (the one closest to your heart) is your romantic soulmate. Just wanted to clear any of the conclusion. 
> 
> Please tell me what you thought down below! Or find me on twitter (AlonaDanger) or tumblr (WriteYourOwnLifeStory)


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